À Partir De La Mémoire (From Memory)
by colouredred
Summary: Elsa and her twin, Maeva, are loners by choice. Betrayed by family and knowing the fickle, untrustworthy nature of most vampires, trust has never been easy for either. But what they hadn't counted on was the strange encounters with another vampire; Alistair. 3-part "one-shot", Alistair/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight and its characters, but my OC is mine.**

**Okay, so I'm going to give you a little need-to-know thing here, some background information that might help my lovely readers understand this 3-part story a little better.**

**Elsa, Maeva and William are all OC's of mine. They grew up in France around the 1300's - 1400's, and it was William (the eldest sibling) who was first turned into a vampire. In his newborn lust for blood, he killed most of his family but managed to restrain himself from killing his twin sisters, Elsa and Maeva, and instead turning them alongside him. They viewed this as his ultimate betrayal, and the twins and William went seperate ways. More recently (the last few hundred years) the twins gained enough experience in combat to begin hunting for William, deciding that it was time to kill him since he had become a monster and murderer in his new life.**

**All three siblings speak with a slight accent, but I chose not to write their parts with the accent because of its lightness. There is also inconsistency with the phrasing of things (eg. do not and don't) and this is because the characters are still trying to adapt to the shortened speech style of the modern era. They also all bear a similar appearance, with dark black hair. William's is short and wavy, Maeva's short and straight, with Elsa's being straight and long. One of the major differences between the twins is that Elsa has a longer/larger nose.**

**This first part is PRE-TWILIGHT.**

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**À Partir De La Mémoire (From Memory)**

_Partie 1_

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For some reason, she couldn't recall ever seeing blood so red before.

The vibrancy her eyes perceived seemed surreal; a new shade to cover the world and stain it crimson. Certainly that was what it must do. It already covered her hands, her clothing, and the body beneath her.

A wretched, pitiful snarl was thrown into the night, reverberating off the forest trees.

"Look what you have brought upon us!" growled a male voice.

Elsa could not look up, and she had no need to. She had memorized his appearance already, knew it as well as her own. They were so similar, with black hair, red eyes, and with the classic features of most elder vampires.

"Our family is dying, Elsa, because you will not accept our true nature."

Elsa shook her head, hands trying to staunch the bleeding wound of the woman beneath her. "It is your nature alone, William."

He laughed, and laughed with madness. "You are my sister – my family – and we are the same. We carry the same blood!"

Abstaining from the indulgence of panic, Elsa instead stated, "And you have spilt it-"

"A mistake." William assured, sorrow enveloping his voice once more.

"-you have caused Maeva great injury tonight. How many more of us must die before you understand?" she continued unheedingly.

Being as stubborn as she was, Elsa was sure not listen to her brother. He had had more second chances than she could count. That ended now. The blood that the three siblings had left through history would stop. William must cease his apathetic, needless murders, and if he could not do it himself, then – as they had decided many years ago – Elsa and Maeva would.

"You have killed our parents, our aunts and uncles and cousins." Elsa began. "And now it seems you want to see even us dead."

Once more, William laughed. He couldn't stop; the situation delighted him greatly. "Do you not want to see me dead?"

"I want to see you saved." She argued.

"Ah, of course. You still believe we can be good." William sighed, almost wistful.

Elsa began to move at last, cradling her sister, Maeva, against her. Blood of the most crimson colour bled relentlessly, and though no death could come for someone already dead, Elsa still felt fear.

"We have both killed, Sister," her brother said, "it is our nature. We are vampires, and we must embrace it."

Elsa smiled sadly this time, still refusing to look up. "You have such an archaic definition of 'vampire', Will. We are also people, _nous avons la vie_, and we are allowed humanity."

William scoffed at the notion, at her words and the old nickname. He hated being told what to do, how to act, and Elsa was always the one to do just that. This was also worsened by the fact that he was the oldest, whilst Elsa and Maeva shared the title of youngest. He knew better, he thought, he was older, and they should have been listening to him.

"We are not human." He insisted.

"We _were_." Elsa replied, and it was such a rehearsed answer that she had to second-guess herself. Perhaps that was the wrong answer to convince him. "But perhaps you no longer walk that path."

William was surely grinning, stretching his pale skin wide. "Neither do you."

They both knew they had reached breaking point. For as patient as Elsa was, her patience could last only so long. Now, centuries later, she was through.

Looking up at last, meeting red eyes that burned with the same intensity as Maeva's blood, Elsa decided something quite simple.

"I am not the one who has killed without need. For heaven's sake William, _he was five!_ _And you tore him apart!_" Elsa began to rise to her feet, bringing the unconscious Maeva with her. "You," she declared, "are no brother of mine."

William, whose eyes were caught beneath his sister's stare, did not move. He did not flinch, he did not breathe and he did not blink. Her words were incomprehensible to him. William could not begin to fathom her hatred of him, nor her relinquished claim over him. He was her brother and creator, and so to expect anything but love from his sisters both was incomprehensible. It was not something he thought could happen.

"You are my sister. You and Maeva. We are together in this." He muttered.

Elsa offered only a mere pretence of a smile. "No." she replied, and turned away.

As she – and Maeva consequently – began to depart from the scene, William said nothing more.

As a young boy, he had been talkative, energetic, and daring. All three of those things had been lost to him, and with it, himself.

Elsa had known this, just as Maeva did, and it was time to accept it.

A flash of speed, for a flash was all Elsa could manage, propelled them further from William and his harm. It left them deeper in the forest, with nothing but trees and snow for company.

There was no need to speak, for the absence of another conscious presence and because she never needed to use words with Maeva. The two had a unique understanding of each other that most twins lacked, and could always sense the emotions of the other.

It was both an advantage, and an annoyance.

Currently, all she could feel was a jumbled mix of emotions and thoughts, creating the haze with which Maeva lacked the strength to fight off.

The coat Elsa wore grew heavier and began to reek of blood after not long. If William wanted to, he could very easily track them down and kill them. But if Elsa knew her brother, and she had at some point in time, she was aware that he had a flair for drama and a love of challenges. A simple, quick kill where he was at an advantage would only prove dissatisfying for him.

"You look terrible." remarked a sudden, unexpected voice.

Elsa cursed herself for not noticing sooner. She had been too distracted, too wound up in her thoughts, to notice it. But it was obvious – the scent that permeated the air. And it was not William, but another man she feared far more.

"Alistair." Elsa greeted curtly.

The century of time that had passed left him unchanged, and he remained tall, blonde and strikingly familiar as he stood between the arch of two bare-branched trees.

"Was it your brother that did that?" he asked, appearing to be only mildly interested in Maeva's condition.

Elsa looked from her sister, and back to her old acquaintance. "Yes."

"Do you want help?" Alistair asked.

"Did I ask for help?" Elsa retorted.

He shrugged, allowing his eyes to wander from her. The very existence of his offer to help her pertained to his tolerance of her. Though their meetings were brief and few, Alistair learnt her story quickly, and felt a kindred spirit within her. She had a certain understand most lacked.

But all that was not enough for him to insist upon company. Alistair hated companionship above all things, and so it was sensible of him to accept what he wanted when offered to him.

Not wishing to remain when remaining was inane, Alistair was preparing to walk away when Elsa spoke again.

He had not expected her to, nor expected her to say, "Please."

Her longing for safety had overwhelmed her more swiftly than either had anticipated, sorely disappointing them both.

"I wouldn't mind it if you helped." Elsa added.

Alistair glanced backwards, resisting a smile. "Follow me." He ordered.

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**I'm not sure about this ff, mainly because of Twilight. I have this weird thing with Twilight were I don't like the main characters (sorry guys!) and I think some of the background characters make far more dynamic, realistic characters. I also cannot stand the books, but that is just because I don't like how Stephenie Meyer writes.**

**Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This part is still pre-twilight, directly following part 1.**

**Read and review please!**

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**À Partir De La Mémoire (From Memory)**

_Partie 2_

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The red on her clothes remained, and so it was Alistair who offered her a change.

It felt nice to be dry once more, even though Elsa felt slightly uncomfortable wearing Alistair's jacket for warmth. For as disconcerting as his hospitality was, she was just as glad for it.

"So," Elsa asked into the silence, "is this your place?" She gestured to the wood cabin's interior surrounding them, encompassing the single bed that Maeva as situated on.

Alistair gave her a quick once-over, before nodding. "One of them." He corrected.

Indulging herself in a distraction, Elsa began to wander around the small room. It was far less modern and less extravagant than most vampire lodgings, and Elsa found it quaint.

"Stop that." Alistair grumbled, just as the female vampire was to begin her fifth round of the cabin.

Elsa cast him a look, before letting out a long sigh. She hadn't meant to be a burden.

She had only been seeking a safe haven, which was something that Alistair had to offer.

Elsa frowned then, wondering why it was that Alistair always seemed to offer that to her, and then as to why she was always looking for somewhere safe.

Alistair noticed her troubled expression, something that was so atypical of the cheerful woman. It worried him, and more so because he was even worried in the first place. He hated the kindness he extended to her, resented her, yet could not help but revel in her presence.

In the conflict of his inner emotions, Alistair belatedly noticed that he had moved to stand before Elsa. Already he was standing too close to her, and so it amazed him when he said, "Elsa."

Without even peeking upwards through her heavy fringe, she answered with a simple, "I don't know what to do anymore."

"You never did." He replied, matter-of-fact.

Elsa then turned her face upwards, so that their red eyes met. Being as close as they were, Alistair would have to have been blind not to notice how beautiful she truly was, or to miss the flicker of a moment wherein she swayed towards him.

"I don't know if I can do it; kill William." She confessed.

Having never been told the name before, Alistair decided that he was Elsa's estranged brother.

"It's what you and Maeva spent decades preparing for." He supplied aimlessly. Alistair would never admit it, yet her scent was clouding most of his rational thought.

"I know," Elsa agreed. She ran a hand through her hair, clearly distressed, "but _I_ don't want to have do it. Maeva can, but I don't think I will. I had the chance tonight, and I just ignored it."

He knew of nothing to say, social skills lacking after the years of solitude; and even despite, Alistair felt strangely accepting of their current predicament. It was, though he had a particular dislike for the word, _nice_.

Or would have been, but for Elsa, who would undoubtedly be crying if that were something she could still do.

Seeing no other option, he took her arms and threw them around his neck. One hand pressed her close by tangling itself in her hair, the other wrapped around her waist. Elsa accepted the embrace too easily for it to be comfortable, before then leaning closer until it was no longer possible.

"You'll do whatever you want to do." Alistair told her. "You're too stubborn not to."

Elsa smiled against his neck, whilst he kissed the top of her head. However, with moments as rare as those, they were always too good to last.

Alistair pulled away first, angry he had allowed himself to display his affections so openly. He knew that if he stayed any longer he would do something reckless, something he would probably regret.

"I'm going hunting." He muttered.

Elsa dropped her smile, realising her action as well. "You're so stupid." She informed him.

Alistair took a single, slow step away from her, with his eyes cast anywhere but on her. He didn't care what she had called him, so long as he left before impulse bettered him.

Seeing this and loving the attention and care Alistair bestowed upon her, Elsa knew she shouldn't let the moment slip away into his tall pile of forgotten memories. So she grabbed his hand.

A moment later, and their limbs were entwined, lips meeting, and Elsa began to realise that _Alistair_, of all people, was kissing her. She failed to respond until her legs hit the back of the sofa, before pulling him forward by the neck.

"This doesn't mean you're not irritating." Alistair promised, when the long moment absent of fake breathing and separation passed.

"_Bien sûr_." Elsa mumbled, shock reducing her to speaking in her native language of French, before saying, "I know."

Even though they spoke those words carelessly, neither moved far from the other. Alistair's hands remained around her waist, whilst Elsa kept hers in the length of his hair.

"Aren't you going hunting?" she inquired.

"I am." He agreed.

Elsa smiled sadly, dropping her hands from his neck until they touched only air. Alistair, as expected, had used his supernatural speed to facilitate his getaway. Now alone again, Elsa looked over at Maeva, whose face was turned towards the wall.

Elsa should have expected nothing more from that man. He was a loner, a nomadic vampire just like herself and Maeva, and of course a connection of any kind would be shunned. Whether platonic or romantic, he would reject it. Elsa knew she was lucky enough to have elicited the care from Alistair that she had.

She also knew she shouldn't want more, even though it was what she wanted.

An abrupt wave of warmth, of an inner glow that felt the way laughter would, resounded with her, and Elsa blinked. It was such a rare thing, to see her surprised so many times in just one meagre day. Yet it had happened.

The emotions were not her own, but rather those belonging to Maeva.

"Mae?" Elsa exclaimed, using her vampiric abilities to reach the bedside in a matter of seconds.

Real laughter, not the intangible kind from before, echoed around the room as Maeva rolled over. Her hair was worn in a shorter fashion than her sister's, meaning that Maeva had little trouble ridding her face of the obstruction. Her smaller nose crinkled as she giggled, which was something Elsa hadn't thought to notice ever before.

"I was certain it would happen." She began, before wincing as the pain from her still-healing wounds set in.

Elsa rolled her eyes. Of course Maeva would laugh at her misfortune.

"Our meetings with that man are more than chance." Maeva remarked. "He is the only person I've ever seen you let order you around."

Elsa gripped her sister's arms before pulling her upright. "I tolerate him." She disagreed.

"Oh, of course." Maeva conceded sarcastically, already slipping back into her pessimistic shell. "My mistake."

"Are you in need of anything?" Elsa countered with a suspicious change of subject, much preferring to concern herself with her twin's welfare.

Maeva glanced down at herself – her bloody jeans and the bandaged torso – before sighing. "Blood, when I'm healed. We didn't have time to feed tonight after…"

Elsa nodded, accepting the avoidance of the subject with ease. "We'll leave after you've healed." Unspoken, for it did not need to be said when it was presumed, as the reason why they would leave; to continue their hunt for William.

"We could remain a little longer. Don't you want to find out how Alistair feels about you?" Maeva wondered.

But knowing that already, Elsa could only laugh.

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**Just so you know, I'm uploading this in three parts just to break up the different scenes for an easier reading. **

**Hope it helps.**

**Translations (again, I used google translate):**

**_Bien sûr - _of course**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third and final part - and it's set during Breaking Dawn.**

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**À Partir De La Mémoire (From Memory)**

_Partie 3_

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"We need your help."

Alistair only continued to stare at his old friend, resenting not only his request, but his very presence.

"We need as many witnesses as possible. Renesmee is unique, Alistair." He persisted.

"You have more than enough friends without me." The elder vampire argued.

Carlisle shook his head slowly. "Not enough. This is the Volturi-"

"Exactly." Alistair interjected, certain that his rejection would now be accepted.

"I'm not asking for you to fight. All I'm asking for is your presence." Carlisle explained. "Please; as a friend."

Alistair rocked backwards on his heels. Although he had taken to considering it, the request wasn't something he desired to partake in.

Carlisle opted to make one last appeal to his friend. "Elsa and Maeva have already agreed to come."

Alistair scowled. "Maybe."

* * *

Calm was nothing more than a state of mind; a state Elsa was struggling to maintain.

It was strange, given her surroundings. The Cullen's house was clean, smooth and full of nothing at all that could clutter the mind. Outside, she could hear nothing save the forest sounds. The household was far from the clamour of human society, instead surrounded with wind and the rare few animals who braved the presence of vampires.

But then again, it was also not so strange.

"Try breathing." Maeva muttered into her ear.

Elsa frowned. "There would be no point." She replied, yet still took a futile breath regardless.

Even though her heart didn't beat, she felt her mind clear.

"See? Now you aren't as nervous." The other pointed out.

"I never was." Elsa replied, indignant.

Maeva rolled her eyes disparagingly. She could feel her twin's worry through their bond, and if that alone wasn't enough, they had heard that Alistair was to arrive today. He was the last of the witnesses the Cullens had gathered, and the anticipation of his coming was threatening to overrun Elsa. She wasn't accustomed to uncertainty, although those were the terms with which she had Alistair had parted on last.

"Why would you be nervous?" asked Tanya Denali, who sat beside the sisters on the couch.

Elsa intended to reply with a counter-question, and would have but for her sister's interference.

"She has grown affectionate towards one of the vampires yet to arrive." Maeva teased.

Tanya's eyes widened, before a playful smirk grew. "Really? I thought Elsa had vowed to never fall for anyone."

As both the twins and the Denali family were close, and felt like siblings towards one another, Elsa didn't take the comment to heart, and instead smiled.

"Well he's not just anyone." She shrugged, forgetting to deny the truth.

"He's an ass, that's what." Maeva added.

Elsa merely shrugged in acceptance; she knew that already.

"What about your little Kate?" Elsa then said to change the topic.

Tanya glowered as she looked over to her adopted sister. Kate stood with her back to the wall, smiling up at another vampire they knew as Garrett. Over the past few days, their attraction had become blatantly obvious, and much like a sport for the three girls to watch.

"He's a red-eye." Tanya muttered moodily.

"He's handsome." Maeva also whispered.

"He's looking at you two." informed Elsa.

Indeed he was, looking over Kate's blonde hair to shoot them a wordless inquiry as to their collective attention.

Someone would have said something at some point, had it not been for the door closing. Moments later, Carlisle Cullen, along with Esme, Edward and the newborn Bella, entered the room. None were smiling, which was because, perhaps, they found nothing to smile about.

When seeing Alistair absent, Elsa quickly came to realise that of course he would be. There were too many people downstairs for him.

"_Au revior_." Elsa told her sister and Tanya, before making a beeline for the doorway.

When she reached it, Carlisle placed a restraining hand on her forearm to keep her with him a while longer.

"If you are going to find Alistair, he's in the attic." He said, whilst the black-haired woman nodded. "I should warn you, he's in a horrible mood."

"Isn't he always?" Elsa refuted rhetorically.

Still, she nodded her thanks before flitting up the stairs. Vampiric speed was strange in that the perception of time was altered. Although it took only a second, it felt both too long, and too short a time for the movement to have occurred within.

There was many things to cause confusion when a vampire, such as Elsa swallowing needlessly before entering the attic. She could only be thankful that her many, many years of un-death had taught her tolerance and control.

The first she saw of Alistair in ten years was his back. He wore a dark jacket, with another, more weather-proof coat cast over the second seat of the wooden sofa he sat on. His head was turned towards the window, watching as the light bled from the sky and into the dark of the forest.

"I came here to be alone." He called out.

"To a house full of vampires?" Elsa countered, proud of her witty response.

She heard him breathe out harshly, a sort of half-laugh. Alistair turned back to finally look at her.

"You look terrible." He said half-heartedly.

Elsa rolled her shoulders. "I haven't been able to sleep for a few centuries." She joked.

He hummed rather than make the effort to answer properly. As Elsa took a seat beside Alistair, the silence stretched thin. Neither wanted to break it even though they both had many things they wished to speak about. Because of this, they continued to sit in silent companionship for a long while.

Elsa became conscious of every move made; of how Alistair's fingers were but inches from hers, and of how her shoulders turned towards him. It wasn't bad, except for Elsa's own restlessness.

At length, she spoke. "Why did you come at all?"

"I owed Carlisle." Alistair replied with some hesitancy.

Elsa watched him from the corner of her eye, her lips tugging into a smirk when he glanced her way.

"Perhaps I should thank him." She sighed.

Alistair managed a brief smile, before returning to his previously sullen expression. "Why are you here?"

Elsa crossed her legs and used the motion to slide closer. "Boredom," she supplied, "a lack of leads on William's whereabouts, because my sister has a good heart and wishes to help."

"Not for the company then?"

Elsa laughed. "That, least of all."

Another silence fell, lasting until night had descended upon them both. This time, now at ease with each other, it was far from uncomfortable. Elsa didn't speak, and neither did Alistair want her to. He had had enough of that already, and her very presence was enough for him.

"Alistair," Elsa began, when her curiosity overwhelmed her, "was it a _erreur- _a mistake?"

Without being said outright, the implication was there. Was their kiss a mistake? That one precious moment of passion; did it mean nothing?

Their eyes met – red on red – and he could think of but one answer.

"Yes." He replied. "One of the best I've ever made."

Elsa's face split into a small smile, and Alistair resisted no longer, as he sated his desire to kiss her again at last.

"That's good." She murmured, parting from the embrace.

A second later, and Elsa had swung her leg over Alistairs', so that she straddled him. He reached up, brushing aside the straight locks of her hair that fell forward, and continued to look over her.

"There's something about you," Alistair muttered, "that makes me want to kill you and kiss you at the same time."

"You want to kill me because you want to kiss me." Elsa explained.

Alistair smiled slowly. "Perhaps. I'm not overly fond of people, and this-" he gestured downstairs, "-is the largest crowd I've been near since I was created."

Elsa raised her eyebrow. "I don't understand how it is you can be alone for so long." She remarked.

"You are often alone as well." He said pointedly.

Elsa only continued to look confused. "I have Maeva."

"Well," and Alistair half-smiled, "It's easy. Meeting most people is like torture for me, and then for some…you live with the memories of them. It's easier because you don't have to deal with interacting with them, and looking out for them."

Elsa understood the last statement well, knowing that he meant it to mean he didn't have to keep cautious, to stay alert for a sudden betrayal.

"The problem with that, though," she decided, "is that you can glorify this person, and you can also dehumanize them. Your memories might not match the reality."

Alistair trailed his fingers over her neck. "They always do."

Elsa was relentless, wanting to prove herself right even if that would only disappoint her. She found herself asking, "So, from memory, what am I like?"

Alistair kissed her once, briefly, causing Elsa to smile down at him.

"Mostly like this." He said.

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**Thanks for reading and sticking to the sucky ending. No pun intended.**

**Translations:**

**_Au revior - _goodbye/bye**

**_erreur_ - mistake (obviously)**


End file.
